Chapter 12
The floor practically falls out from under me.
“You’re Jean-Luc?” I sputter.
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Jean-Luc who co-owns the chateau with me?”
“Yes, that would be me?”
“You’re seriously Jean-Luc?” I blink. This is the guy who is supposedly co-inheriting the chateau with me, who I conveniently ran into at the council office? I thought we had a connection forming. I thought we were actually getting somewhere, and this whole time he’s been sussing out the competition.
A cocky grin pulls the corners of his lips. “It’s what the women who scream my name in pleasure tell me.”
My eyes move slowly down his body. “You wish.” All the warm fuzzy feelings I had toward him evaporate like morning dew off overgrown grass.
“Oh, Impératrice, I think it’s you who wishes.”
I want to slap that stupid smirk right off his stupid face. My eyes narrow as my brows draw down and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “But you told me your name was Luc. Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I should’ve asked him last night if he knew who Jean-Luc was. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so stupid right now.
“I don’t usually go around introducing myself by my full name, I’ve always just been Luc. Besides, do you know how many Jean-Lucs are in Carcen? In my extended family alone there are five—not including me.” He opens and closes his mouth, then shrugs his shoulders casually, like he’s trying to lighten the blow. “You know, in a world full of people, be you.”
My jaw falls open as my nostrils flare with each word spewing out of his kissable lips. “Are you butchering an Emerson quote to me?”
A pinched expression mars his face. “I’m sorry, you must feel hurt?—”
“Oh please.” I hold my hand to stop him; I can’t hear the words coming out of his mouth right now. I lift my chin. “I think you should leave,” I say, my tone low and foreboding. When he doesn’t move a muscle, I push past him, inhaling his spiced wood scent. I don’t stop until I reach the front door and hold it open while I wait for him to leave.
Luc chuckles as he slowly steps down before hitting the landing, his demeanor becoming more confident—if that’s even possible. “I’m not a man who walks away from a fight. Ask around town. These are my people, after all,” he says with a sneer, invading my space as he brushes past me, making sure his bicep makes contact with my coat-clad nipples, which gladly jump at the attention of my new enemy’s affection.
He turns to look at me.
“Never underestimate who you’re dealing with, Luc.” I don’t give him a chance to finish his sentence as I slam the door shut, causing some of the wooden beams to heave under the weight. I don’t care, I’ll replace it.
“The nerve of that guy,” I grumble, my fists balled in anger at my side. I’ve only had the chateau for a few days, and if he thinks he can just waltz in and bully me into taking the chateau, he has another thing coming; I’m not going to give it up without a fight.
Hot French guy summer is now officially off. Luc just became my enemy number one.
Back in my hotel room I make myself comfortable, taking a sip from the glass of wine. I’ve spent the last two hours sketching in my notepad. My painting is now abandoned on the easel. The tension releases from my muscles with each stroke of my 2B pencil on my sketch pad. I open my small portable watercolor pallet and start adding a bit of color to my drawing. With my finishing touches in place, I stare at a very basic image of the main street of Carcen, before deciding to look through the building inspector’s report. The chateau has thirty-four rooms across the four levels, three of which could be considered as bathrooms, and an attic. I flip through the first page of the report and set to work reading through all the code violations—Chateau des éveillés is not short of code violations, with one hundred and seventy-five individual violations to be exact.
“The only working toilet leaks sewage straight into the moat. Ew, yuck,” I say, poking my tongue out. “Poor fishies.” Well, I assume the moat has fishies. Asbestos, woodworm, broken windows, rotting wood, broken stone masonry, limited water supply, the moat leaks, dampness in the basement, and a crack in four out of the seven chimney pipes. The report reads like a list of red flags, Luc included. As I continue to read all the violations, my mind wanders to Luc. Did Madeline tell him I’m fixing up the chateau? Or was it Timothé? He did inform me of my inheritance, after all. I really need to talk to Timothé about the stipulations of the will. I swallow the golf ball in my throat, take another sip of my wine, and return my attention to the report. I have six months to make the chateau livable to ensure I inherit my share, and I don’t care if Luc is going to try to stand in my way—it’s not going to stop me from reaching my goal.
“It’s going to be a long night.” I sigh as I read through the first fifty of the violations, my brain already spinning from the small sip of wine. I type the word g?tes into Google Translate. Apparently the three g?tes each have their own handful of twenty violations. And only one of them is livable. Goodie.
“Ahhh, okay g?tes means lodges, cool, more chateau.” Six months is starting to seem like no time at all.
With my broom in hand, I continue trying to sweep some of the debris from the floor. A knock on the door makes me pause.
Please don’t be Luc.
“Monsieur Henry.” I smile, opening the door. Henry, with his navy-blue coveralls peeking out under his thick winter coat and a coil of thick black tubing slanted on his shoulder, smiles at me on the other side.
“Bonjour, Aurora,” Henry greets. “Errr, this is my son, André.” Henry introduces the man standing to his right. André is really handsome, not as tall as Luc, but where Henry was round, André’s figure is firm under his winter coat.
“Père told me you were pretty, but he didn’t explain just how pretty. Enchanté,” he whispers as he kisses my hand. As he pulls his lips back, Henry clips him over the back of the head.
“We are here to work, lover boy.” He rolls his eyes at his son. I can’t help the grin that tugs at the corner of my lips as I move to the side and let them into the chateau.
“Henry, I did some research for you.” I grab my notebook and the building inspector’s report. Henry motions to André to start taking notes. “So all together, we have thirty-four rooms on four levels—a ballroom, a library, a sitting room, a kitchen, an attic, and three bathrooms so far. I’ve gone through each of the rooms. We’re going to have to add bathrooms to each of these rooms. I’ve categorized the violations from most important to least and created subheadings for different trades, but I probably need you guys to take a look at it. Google Translate didn’t really understand me by the end of it.” I hand him the detailed list I’d spent half the night working on. “Oh, and I have a sewage issue.” The list alone sends me into hyperventilation. The amount of work listed here is wild, and I’m not exactly the handiest person going around.
André takes the list from me. Henry’s eyebrows are raised to his hairline as André flicks through the pages, each violation is color coded for the renovation that needs to happen. “I am impressed, Aurora, you did a lot of work.”
I smile from ear to ear, proud to hear his praise.
“Do you have the plans? We can use them to design the heating system.”
The smile on my face falls slightly; I haven’t found the plans for the chateau yet, and in the current state this place is in, I don’t even know the first place to look for them. What if Luc has them? I really don’t want to ask him for it.
“No.” I shake my head, my throat working hard with my swallow.
“With four levels, we’ll need to create a unique heating system. We will start measuring up the place.” Henry and André set to work immediately. The sound of gravel crunching under car tires alerts me to a new presence. From my spot on the stone steps, I watch a brown Porsche SUV glide down the driveway, kicking up dirt and leaves. Oh goodie. He’s back.
“Can I help you?” I ask, my arms crossed over my chest, lips set in a grim line.
“I came to see the work being done,” Luc says, closing his car door a little harder than necessary.
I wave my hand around. “Now you’ve seen, so you can go.”
He smiles, resting against his car. “I hope you don’t mind wheeling your suitcases back down the road, Impératrice.”
“Not a chance on that frozen moat.” I indicate to the moat next to us.
“I am also here with this,” Luc says, and as if taking his cue, another car comes down the driveway.
“And who might this be?” I ask, eyebrows raised, staring at the car now parked next to Luc’s.
“This is the man who is going to tell you that I own this chateau,” Luc replied smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. This again.
I ignore Luc and turn to look at the man exiting his car. Like Luc, he is dressed in a well-fitted suit and a black woolen overcoat, setting off the hue of his darker skin tone. His hair is thinning on top and gray just above his ears, giving way to the grooves of his ruddy face.
“And who might you be?” I ask, my tone short and defensive.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle. I’m Arthur, and I’m here on behalf of the city of Carcen,” the man announces. “I believe we have some matters to sort out.” Arthur leans back into his car and pulls out a briefcase from behind the front seat. My throat works hard to swallow, trying to calm my nerves. The only way this man is going to evict me from the chateau is kicking and screaming, I can assure that.
Not taking my eyes off Arthur, I watch him close the car door and undo the button on his overcoat, his movements cocky and fluid—he isn’t worried like I am. Is Arthur here to kick me out of the chateau? Did Madeline know Arthur was going to come here today? Is she helping Luc take over? My mind whirls with bad scenarios as the inky tendrils of anxiety start to grip my body. I tuck my shaking fist into my pockets, hoping neither of the men sees this affecting me.
“Is there somewhere where we can discuss this?” Arthur asks, staring between us. Not even the frigid early spring air made me feel as cold inside as waiting to hear what Arthur was going to say.
“You can come inside.” Eyeing Luc one last time, I turn my back on them and walk up the stairs, less than impressed by my visitors.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, leaning against the wall. The furniture in the house is in various states of half-broken, and as much as I would love to sit down, I don’t trust it. But it does move need to get furniture higher up on my list. Arthur places his black leather briefcase on his open palm, clicking the buttons on either side, and the locks tick open.
“Jean-Luc Badeaux III has asked me here today as he believes the chateau and its title belong to him. Miss Aurora Allard, I understand that you believe the chateau is yours.” Arthur flips over the first piece of paper and continues to read down. “The paperwork written and submitted to the council from Gauthier & Gauthier firm shows the last will and testament of Monsieur Monet left Chateau des éveillés to his sole surviving heir.” He lets the page fall a bit from his line of sight and stares at Luc. “That is, you, Miss Allard,” he says. I give a squeal in delight as Luc voices his objection.
“I have the letter.” Luc reaches into his pocket and pulls out an opened envelope.
I have the deed, the words were on the tip of my tongue, but instead of saying them, I clamp my lips shut in a thin line. Seems Arthur is doing a good enough job of fighting my battle.
“There is a clause written in the will. I understand you were not here for the reading of the will, were you, Miss Allard?” Arthur inquires.
“No, I was not,” I admit, my muscles twitch. Great, there is going to be some clause stating that I had to be here during the reading of the will. My blood bubbles. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I pull at the hem of my sweater, now caked with dust and grime, trying to get the cool air to my too-hot skin. Because I wasn’t here for the reading of the will, could that mean Luc’s letter trumps my deed?
“While you are both correct. You are both also missing a crucial clause. You should both have already commenced permanent occupancy of the residence. Both of you cannot sleep a night outside this chateau. It specifically states in the last will and testament of Louis Monet that permanent occupancy of the property must’ve commenced at the time both parties were informed. If you choose to not act in accordance with the will, the chateau and its surrounding grounds will be put up for immediate auction.”
Luc and I glance at each other in silent agreement. Neither of us wants the chateau to go up for auction.
Arthur nods. “Very well, you have two days to rectify this, or the will is null and void.”
My eyebrows slam down in a frown as I stare at Luc. We’re supposed to be living here together? How? Where? I haven’t exactly done a full exploration of the property yet, but from what I’ve seen, this place is uninhabitable. Where the heck did Louis intend for Luc and I to live? And I’m not really a pitch-a-tent-in-the-backyard type. But if that’s what it takes for me to inherit this place, I’ll happily become one. The smirk falls off Luc’s full lips, and it sends a rush of adrenaline through me. Is he already considering tapping out?
Arthur continues, “The clause in the will states, Jean-Luc and Aurora together need to fix up the chateau. Should one of them forfeit and decide not to live in Chateau des éveillés, they lose their claim to the chateau entirely, giving the other sole ownership of the land, deed, and title. At the conclusion of the six-month period, if you both have stayed, you will be partners, equally owning Chateau des éveillés.” Arthur finishes reading the clause, dropping a proverbial bomb in the middle of the room.
“If that is all…” Arthur lets the statement hang in the air while he puts the paperwork back in his briefcase and snaps the locks closed.
“Hang on, she isn’t a French citizen, she cannot be eligible to inherit land,” Luc argues, causing my heart to drop into the pit of my stomach. My wide eyes flick between Arthur and Luc. Could this huge technicality force me to forfeit my half of the chateau? Surely Louis would’ve known this before he left half of this place to me.